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Lflcy Warandiai's Sacrifice. TIio_ Story of a Hasty Marriage and Its Tragic Sequel. BY ERNST BRUNCKEN, Author of "The Bibliomaniac'8 Crime," "A Terrible Sccrct etc., etc. CHAPTER YJ. . ' 'AN UX HAPPY BU1MEB. . Awful pretty girl, thl3 little Hattle,* honest Jack muttered to himself, as he was ''surely sauntering down the street toward the club house. "Blonde hair, blue eyes, plump figure?just my taste." He merrily twirled his cane around, and after a few minutes surprised himself by vhintling the latest popular tune Jack had'never before found himself of a mulicfcl turn of mind. He went to the club, took a paper, lighted his cigarette, and began to read. But e7er and anon his thoughts wandered from the newspaper to pretty Hatr tle Beckford. Strange what a change the bine eyes of a girl can effect in a man. But an hour ago Jack had been as oppressed in pirit as he could well be, and now he felt as light-hearted as a schoolboy, withAnt lrnnnM n o ichv He looked up from his paper when he heard the voice of Waller Warringham, who had stepped behind Jack's chair and laid his hand familiarly upon his shoulder as he said: "Hello, old man! You're looking very well to-day. How would a game of billards suit you?" At the sight of Ralph's brother it occurred to Jack that Walter probably did not yet know what had occurred earlier In the day. He thought it his duty to inform him of it Walter replied with a flippant jest that disgusted and puzzled Jack. He could not understand how any one could treat so serious a matter ao frivolously. Walter Warringham had the reputation of playing an excellent game of billiards, but this afternoon he did not prove CIS line ZO SUCH iame. ne maue several shots so poor that Jack looked at him in astonishment Tho fact was that his thoughts were not concentrated on the little ivory balls he was chasing over the green cloth. He was thinking of the conseqtiences of Balph's departure. Was his mother very much incensed, and would she of _ hj?r 9^1 &ccor<^ do what j)g 59 ajjientty wished?make a he*w will to the exclusion of the disobedient son? Or, would it be necessary to influence her in that direction? Walter determined to assure himself as soon as possible as to his prospects. As soon as he could disengage himself, he went home and at once called on his mother. He found her in a great state of excitement, which she did not sueceed in concealing under a mask of cold v, cess and dignity. "Have you heard of the pretty escapades of your brother?" she asked him, &s soon as he had entered her boudoir. "Yes, mamma; and I can feel nothing but indignation at Ralph's outrageous - conduct," he hastened to reply. Mrs. Warringham was not disposed to converse much on the painful subject She walked about restlessly, looking at a picture on the wall here and stopping before a mirror there. Her excitement seemed as yet to prevent a clear collection of ideas. After a while Walter asked, with a sneer: "And when will we have the honor of seeing your charming daughter-in-law?" Mrs. Warringham stopped in her perambulation in front of her son, and said, with a sharp voice: "I don't suppose Ralph expects to see that wife of .his treated by me as a danghter-in-law." Walter observed soon that it was unnecessary to add fuel to the flame of his mother's wrath against Ralph. He thought it prudent to refrain from alluding himself to the object of his desires. The following morning he was gratified to learn that Mrs. WarrinRham had sent for a lawyer. The will was evidently to be changed, and the amiable brother's heart rejoiced. Mrs. Warringham was closeted with the lawyer for a long time. Neither Walter nor Miss Beckford was invited to attend the conference, but the footman and the ladies' maid were summoned into the room at the same time, presumably In order to put their names as witnesses to a document. That night Mrs. Warringham went to ted at an unusually early hour. "My health is not as it used to be," he remarked to Hattie as she was about to retire. Miss Beckford had herself observed that her aunt's features showed an unusual pallor, and she even believed she saw in them traces of wrinkles which had not been visible before. Tne spring was neanng us ciuse unu the season imminent when fashionable people feel under an obligation to exchange their comfortable city residences against more or less uncomfortable country seats, or, if they cannot boast of the latter luxury, the still more uncomfortable quarters supplied at watering places. Mrs. Warringham observed that the streets were intolerably dusty, and soon it was decided that the family should leave the city at the earliest opportunity. They had usually gone to the seaside, but this time the physician thought that the quiet of some secluded mountain retreat would le better suited to Mrs. Warringham's state of health than the turmoil and excitement of Newport or Mount Desert. Accordingly, about three weeks after Ralph's departure, Mrs. Warringham and her niece moved to Fair Glen, one of the most picturesque thoagh comparatively little known summer resorts of the country. Walter declared that the place was too much out of the way to suit his tastes, but promised that he would pay frequent v+s.ts. ' A remarkable change had come over Mrs. Warringham since her eldest son bad left She was not actually sick, yet her nervousne?s and an unusual languor Inspired Hattie's observant mind with apprehension. She appeared older than formerly, and there were lines as oi care and sorrow around her mouth. She was more susceptible to the influences of the changing weather and temperature than 9he had been in the times oj her robust health. A shadow of melan'cboly settled over her mind, and contrary to her former habits she associated little with the other sum ner residents ol the place. To Ralph and his v ife she never alluded. A few times Hattfe touched the subject but met with such a vigorous rebuff that she perceived soon that hei aunt was_ determined not to hear the namo of the prodigal son mentioned before her ears. Hattie had received a .letter from Balph, written immediately after his arrival in England. He explained a1 length the course he had pursued, hoped she was not angry with him, and re aiiested her good offices to effect a recon ciliatlon with his mother, whose resent. ment, he said, he felt as an intolerable burden. t Hattieread and re-read this letter a hundred times, although the words of glowing affection in which he spoke of his wife pave a violent pang to hor heart every time she saw them. She hid the \ines in the bosom of her dress and looked at them whenever she was alone. Poor child! How glady would she have softened her aunt's cold heart But what could the poor girl do? At the same time, with the letter addressed to her, Ralph had sent one to his mother. It had been returned unopened, but Mrs. Warringham % - ? *- 1* - _ 1 _ V. oaa 101a nauer to wruo jo-aipu uiav there could be nothing In common between her and him, until his relation to "that woman" was dissolved. Thus passed a dreary summer. Often Hattie climbed on one of the bills that surrounded the valley in which their village stood, and sat there alone for hours with a book in her hand- She hardly knew what the lines said. Her thoughts were far away across the Atlantic wares, where one lived who cared only for another woman. When she returned home at dusk, she looked di9tressedly into the pale features of her aunt, whose expression now was more that of sadness than of haughtiness as of old. Was it a bodily or was It a mental trouble_ which had caus?d this change? Who couia tour rsmaps there were more causes than one. A few weeks after the arrival of tho Warringhams at Fair Glen, Hattie was not disagreeably surprised to see Jack Spofford alight from the scrnewhat primitive vehicle that did service as an omnibus between the village of Fair Glen and the railroad station that was about two miles away, down a picturesqne mounts tain road. >> What had brought Jack Spofford to this outr-of-the-way village? He had never shown particular Inclination to "Slowly trace the forest's shady eoeoa," Or "To climb the trackless mountain all unseen." In fact, there was some uncertainty whether Jack had ever read these lines, or many others by the poetic lord. But Jack knew why he had come to Fair Glen. He did not tell anybody, however. There was in that sfclitude a certain young lady with golden tresses and blue eyes, whom whimsical Jack desired to see at least once a day. With tho Tftnriir ffAntlnman's arrival life in the lktle colony of summer residents, which had up to that time been rather monotonous and sluggish, began to assume a different aspect He told Hat tie on his arrival that he was bound to have immense fun, and he set diligently about to accomplish his purpose. He proved himself a master in arranging all sorts of amusements; excursions by carriage, on horseback or afoot, to neighboring points of interest, picnics in the shades of the magnificent forest that covered the hills, dances at the hotel, fireworks, and innumerable other varieties of "having fun." A clear, if not very large, brook run through the valley, or "glen" as the patives inBistea on calling it Jack ' maintained strenuously that there must be trout In that little stream, and the landlord of the hotel eagerly upheld him in this opinion, which added additional luster to the splendor of his establishment The skepticism of the majority was overcome by argument and -1? VknA<^fl#n1 mAmlnff fnnr. rUBSUrit, auu uuu ucauunui tuv/i u.ng, >vki fifths of the summer population, provided with fishing tackle of more Or les9 elaborate pattern, began the war against the speckled denizens of tho brook. It is true that nobody ever heard of any trout being taken, but the fun was immens?, just the same?at least tho ladies all declared so. Of conrse it was but a short time until Jack Spofford was by ail the ladies declared to be positively "too awful nice for anything." The men, indeed, did not quite agree with this judgment. They never do, horrid creatures!' But as the ladies were in the vast majority, Jack could boa?t when he had scarcely been a week at Fair Glen, that he was the most popular man in the place. Of course Mr. Spofford Insisted that Miss Beckford should participate In every amusement that he arranged, and Hattie's lonely musings on the hill became in consequence less frequent. It can hardly be said, that Jack's popularity wis shared to any extent by his fair friend. The ladies almost unanimously pronounced her insipid. On the other hand, the perversity of the male minority led them to differ on this subject likewise. They said that Hattie was the most charming girl In town, always excepted the fair one with whom the gentlemen was, at the time being, discussing the question. The two parties generally agreed, however, on the fact that Mr. Spofford succeeded in monopolizing Hattie to a scandalous extent But the conclusions drawn_from this given premise wero again different, according to the female or male persuasion of the reasoner. The ladies all thought Hattie's conduct shnj)ly shameful, while in the eyes of the'gentlemen this'fact was one of * I ~ 9 1? _U? II1U illlll LI UtftUdCS Ui uata 9 Ulipupuiai ; \jy. Strange bow people will differ on the simplest matters. Hattie, young and full of animal spirits as she was, naturally enjoyed tbe diversions Jack arranged, evidently in the first place for her own benefit She bad aljvays regarded her cousin's friend with a kindly feeling, and now, during their closer association, which the sojourn at Fair Glen facilitated, she liked him more end more. In her open-hearted, frank manner, she did not care to conceal her sentiments from him. What was more natural than that Jack flattered himself the prospects of his suit were growing brighter every day, and every night when he went to bed he promised himself that he would take the first opportunity to declare his sentiments to her. But day after day passed, and the love-sick swain had not the couragc to take the tremendous step Alas, poor Jack! He neve dreamed that be was doomed to disappointment? that Hattie's heart was far, far array, whence she would never recover it! The young lady, on her part, never dreamed that her amiable friend would ever .ppear m tne guise or a suitor. He was her playmate, as it were?nothing more. Merry and joyful as she showed herself to him, there were every-day moments of solitude when her thoughts wandered to him who had gone, and the deeply hidden sorrow of her heart overcast her very mirthful ness with a subdued shade which made her still more attractive in his eyes. As for Mrs. Warringham, she very rarely took part in the sports and wiles of the younger people. It was as if some insidious disease were gnawing the very i roots of her life. The physicians were ; at a loss bow to answer tbe anxious . questions of her niece. They could only ; vaguely say that Mrs. Warringham's nervous system needed recuperation? that she must be preserved from all excitement and from bad climatic in flu' ences. At times she felt so weak tb?^ for whole days she was unable to leave her bed: then Ilattie nursed her with , the utmost tenderness, and never lefi , her bedside. On the whole, Mr. Spofford's honesl , efforts notwithstanding, it was a dreary summer which Hattie Beckford spent ai Fair (ilen. CHAPTER VII. A QUESTION' AND AN ^NSWETt. [ Weeks grew Into months, and the slight tinge of scarlet or crimson exhib. 3tod by the maple leaves tave an ad (monition to the' summer Idlers at Fair Glen that it would soon be time to reiturn to the city, to the desk for work or to the drawing-room for that unceasing round of pleasure which is to people who are in society a weary duty. Mrs. Warringham grew anxious to bo home again. With the nervousness of valetudinarians she began to fret about her stay in the uncomfortable cottage, and ^.scribed to the faults of the dwelling all her ailments. Some of the guests had already departed It was accordingly decided that the Warringhams should go by the first of the following week, if Mrs. Warringham's state of health would permit ex. posure to the fatigue of a long railway Journey; for she had during the iast few weeks grown very weak indeed. It was understood that Mr. Spofford should accompany the ladles. Jack felt himself In a peculiar predicament. Almost three months he had come into daily contact with the girl he loved, and yet he had not asked her the question the answer to which would be of such importance to him. At tho same time he felt reasonably assured, except at intervals when his courage failed him. to have found favor in the eyes of his chosen charmer. And yet he could not bring himself to speak the words. Well miffht he curse his modesty?or cowardice, as ho called it?in moments of self-reproach. Why, it was ridiculous! Jack Spofford, who had always taken pride in his pluck, who could ride the wildest horse as good as any man in the country, who at college had been considered champion- at football, afraid to ask a little girl a simple question! Poor Jack! This same ridiculous modesty did him one Rood service?it put off the bitter hour of disappointment Miss Bcckford treated him one day like the other, with never changing friendliness. She liked him as a friend of hers and, perhaps still more so, as a friend of Ralph. Never for a moment did she have the faintest suspicion that Jack returned her feelings with immeasurably more than equal fervor. For this young man's modesty prevented him from ever showing the slightest trace of warmth, which might have put her on the right tack. Jack was not * ? ~ lnvo? I oy any means luo u,jai /or whom the conventional maiden that, ivy-like, pines for an elm tree to cling to is supposed to sigh. But now, when the day of departure from this mountain valley was but a few more days distant, Jack felt that he would have to come to a conclusion. When they had gone back to the city, he would have far less opportunities to take the awful step than now. For he wou'd hardly expect to see her every day, except, perhaps, at balls and receptions?the very worst places for a conversation that is destined for the ear of just olie person, whatever the novelists of the routine sort may say. Here at Fair Glen ho was with her almost from morning till night, and yet he had not availed himself of a hundred opportup.ities that had b^en \hrqwn in kis wav. Something must be done at once. That he saw quite clearly. But he felt at the idea like the boy with the swimming master's lino around, standing hesitatingly on the board from which he is to take the uncomfortable plunge IBbU ILMi WilKI. Finally he concluded that he would invite Miss Beckford for a walk to a favorite place of hers, about two miles up the river, where the rocks formed a picturesque grotto in the midst of the most beautiful primeval forest There he would tel? her all. After he had thought over the plan a little, he found it charming, quite romantic?a delaration of love in a sylvan bower, far away from the profane crowd! Why, I'm a poet he said to himself, and smiled merrily at the idea. He paid extra attention to his toilet that morning, and stood before the looking-glass longer than was his wont He could observe with satisfaction that he looked very r.mcont.nhifl in his flannel shirt bluescarl with the ends fluttering in the breeze, knee u pants "?he did not ride a bicycle, but had taste enough to fancy short trousers, and need not feel ashamed o! the shape of his limbs?and the broadbrimmed Straw hat with a ribbon that he had begged from her. With a tuck at his moustache he mentally declared himself ready for the fray, liut his heart would not stop beating quite impertinently as he walked the short distance from the hotel to the cottage in which the Warringham ladies lived. Hattie showed at first some hesita tion, for tier aunt ieit very pouny mu,i norning. But when Mrs. Warringhain herself insisted upon her going she accepted Jack's invitation very readily. It should be remarked here that Mrs. Warringhain and Mr. Spofford were on very friendly terms now. When Jack saw her the first time after the ominou! message he had brought her he was considerably embarrassed, but as she never alluded to that occurrence by word or mien, he was soon at his case in her presence. In a few moment? Hattie had donned her bonnet and light summer wrap, and soon the two young people were seen leisurely walking on the shady path that followed the windings of the brook up to the grotto. It was one of those days in September whose warmth, after an interval of cooler weather, once more recalls the heat of July. When Hattie and Jack had walked this path for the first time, in June, they had picked yellow violets and blue veronicas on the water's edge, while in the deeper shadows of the wood they found magnificent orchids and on occasional open sunny plots * vt wide-awaKes ana anemones, nuw mo seed capsules were 'ripening where all those blossoms had shown forth from their curtains of foliage. The only flowers to be seen anywhere now were asters of a dim violet color, or here and there a few sunflowers that seemed to be making preparations for a speedy death. If a lyrical mood is awakened by the charms of the woods in every-day people, even in the experienced, cynical man of the world, how much more must this be true of two uncorrupted young people each of whom is in love. Hattie's thoughts were whore they always strayed in moments of sentiment ?following Relph over the sea. She bad received a letter from him the day before, in which ho announced that ho was at the moment in Eisenach, Germany, the place where Martin Luther spent bis boyhood. She bad been struck by the fact that Ralph did not speaK of his wife in as rapturous Uones as in the few that had preceded this one. But she had not given this observation any further thought. Jack Spoflord threw from time to time admiring glances at his fair companion, whan he was sure that she would not see him. Several times ho was on the point of utterins tho fateful word, but then he hesitated again and postponed it till they should have reached the grotto. In this manner thov reachcd a spot where the path had risen somewhat above the bed of the little stream, and an opening in the forest permitted a full view of the lower valley. They were lost in admiration of the panorama, when Hattie was attracted by a dark ' mass of clouds that were raDidly beinpr . driven up the valley by a brisk breeze. She suggested tho prudence of returning at once, so as not to be caught in tho approaching rainstorm. This idea did not suit Jack at all, and he employed ail his rnetorical gifts to 1 convince her that there was no probability of a storm. These clouds, he said, often stood for whole days over the entrance of the valley without ever gettfng Into it. till a shifting of the wind dispersed them. If by any chance they did get between the rocky walls encircling the valley ho owned, these thunder storms had a habit of raging for hours and hours with a vehemence that was unknown in the lowlands. The truth of these observations was well known to Miss Beckford, and she allowed herself to be persuaded. Aboui two-thirds ctf the distance had been traveled. and another quarter of an hour ol up-hill walking would bring them to the goal of their journev. Hut hardly had they walked five minutes when the storm overtook them. With Incredible rapidity the clouds covered the sky, and a strange, wailing sound went through the tops of the giant pines, as they bent before the wind Presently branches, some of them large enough to be mistaken for young trees, were torn off and hurled to the grounc with a terrible crash that could, however, scarcely be heard on account of the roaring of the storm, the creaking ol the trees, as their gnarled trunks, bowing low before superior power, came lnt( contact with each other, and the thousand unheard-of sounds that the uproai of the elements awakened. Then th< blue flashes of lightning illuminec with uncanny, momentary glare, th( scene, while the thunder, re-echoinf again and again from the surrounding hills, was louder even than the roar ol the storm. At last, heavy, large drop; of water began to fall, and before th< two young people, hastening as fast a! their feet would carry them, could react the protection ol tne grouo, toe ran came down In torrents. When they hat entered, the falling water formed an al' most continuous sheet before them anc they were completely shut off from th< outer world. The fury of the storm now had abated a little and its noise was no longer a! terrifying as before the rain be?an t< fall, but the monotonous sound products by the latter falling first on the leaves of the trees, then dripping down on th< rocks, was sufficient "to necessitate i raising of the voice, if the two prisoner! in the grotto would make themselves understood. "2*ot a very promising situation,' Jack thought, "for a lover to oawl hi? professions of love Into her ears, as il she were deaf." And he again put off th( great moment till it would cease to rain. But an hour passed and it still rained a second one was nearly over and stil there were no signs of the end of this terrible avalanche of rain. .Tack's ob servation had proven true. When s storm-cloud had found the difficult entrance into this trap of a mountain val ley, Jt had to stay there until its whole force was spent. But the situation grew very uncomfortable. The discomfort, however, had some compensations, for Jack at least What lover would not lik 3 to be incarcerated in the same cell with his beloved one, far away ?rom the possibility of profane intrusion? Gradually the situation inspired the young man with courage. When th? rain had abated a little so th'at it became possible to speak in an ordinary tone, he actually, though awkwardly and hesi^ tatingly, told her his love and a9ked hei to be his wife. It would be impossible to describe the surprise and consternation of the girl al Jack's declaration. For a moment sh< looked at him in amazement, with eyes staring wide upon. Then she burst intc tear.', unable for some time to articulate a syllable. Jack very naturally gave tc her tears a meaning favorable to hi< hopes, and tried to seize her hand, bul she repelled him, not angrily but decid' edly. "Oh, why have you spoken to me thai way, Mr. SpofFord?" she exclaimed at last, and burst into anoth.T paroxysc of tears. Jack was puzzled. She had not refused him distinctly, and her cxclama tion mizht as well be interpreted one way as the other. He began to press hi? suit, and became quite eloquent now ir his supplication. His former awkwardness and hesitancy were completely overcome. He asked her whether there was anything in his character or his circumstances that she objected to. He tried aiain to seize her hand, but a second time she firmly though gently withdrew it. Than he endeavored to look lnt< her eyes, but she averted her face. To all this she had no response but a sad shake of the head. At last she said, when Jack's pleadings and protestations became more and mo e importunate: "Please don't talk to me any more about it, Mr. Spofford. I cannot answer yes." [to be continued.] TEMPERANCE. alcohol's alphabet. k stands for Alcohol, deathlike its grip ; B for Beginner, who just takes a sip ; D 'or Companion, who urges him on ; D forvthe Demon of Drink that Is born ; E for Endeavor he makes to resist. F stands for Friends who so loudly insist, G for the Guilt that he afterward feels; H for the Horrors that hang at his heels 5 [ his Intention to drink not at all. J stands for Jeering that follows his fall; K for his Knowledge that he is a slave. L stands for the Liquors his appetite craves j hi for convivial Meetings so gay. N stands for No that he tries hard to say ; 0 for the Orgies that then come to pass. P stands for Pride that he drowns in his glass 1 Q for the Quarrels that nightly abound. II stands for Ruin that hovers around. S stands for Sights that his vision Deaim ; T stands for Trembling that seizes his limbs U stands for his Usefulness sunk in the slums V stands for Vagrant he quickly becomes; W for Waning of life that's soon done; X for his eXit, regretted by none. Youth of this nation, such weakness is crime Zealously turn from the tempter in time! * device of man. Alcohol is a device of man. It gushes noi fro n any spring; it runs not from the tree it is not found in the grape, the beet, rye corn, or barley. It is the outcome of rot Nature so disposes of physical putridness a< to produce no harm. From the ruins o autumn she brings forth the beauties o spring. But man, through the brewery mil distillery, arrests the course of nature in certain cases and brings forth a subtle poi' son, which by wrong use becomes a bane tc society and a death blow to human progress, Wherever it is used as a beverage increased police force is required, jails, prisons, asylums and almshouses are multiplied. Lei the rich use it and they become poor, and the well-to-do drink it and they are impoverished. Let the old quaff it and they are made miserable, the yountr sip it an J they fall to ruin, husbands indulgo in it an I they become abusive, and affectionate par ents partake freely ol it nn I they are :naif demons.?National Temperance Advosate. tut: doctor's advice. Tom met an old friend, who was formerly ft prosperous youne lumberman up in Northern Minnesota, but whoso bad habits of drinking brought him to a pretty "hard up" condition, although ho has since reformed and is doing bettor. "Howare you?" asked Tom. "Pretty well, thank you. but I have just seen a doctor to have him examine my throat." "What's the matter?" "Well, the doctor couldn't give me any encouragement. At least, he could not Had what I wont to find." "What did you expect him to find?" "I asked him to look down my throat for the saw mill and farm that had gone down therein drink." "And did he see anything of it?" "No, but he advised me if ever I got another mill to run it by water." : MARY WASHINGTON. ! A MONUMENT TO THE MOTHER . OF THE FIRST PRESIDENT. ) ' Howlt Was Bnilt?Former Unsuccessj ful Attempts to Do Her Honor? Her Romantic Marriage and Domestic Life. t > 'it _ l.ii _ a.a; ) | im a ieccer concerning me aeuica/ I cation of the monument to the 1 memory of Mary, the mother of 6 Washington, at Fredericksburg, ' Va., the New York Recorder says: The monument is a beautiful obelisk of plain white marble, fifty feet high and eleven feet square at the base, bearing an inscription in embossed letters, simply, "Mary, the Mother of Washington." It was executed in Buffalo, N. Y., and was set in position on December 23. It cost $11,000, raised entirely by the ladies of the National Mary Washington Memorial Association, and the monument is in itself creditable alike to the distinguished woman whom it commemorates and to the patriotic American women who have honored themselves by thns honoring her. The association was formed only three years ago, and it may well be a subject of gratification with its members and, indeed, with all -Americans, that the heroine-mother of our first President should at length, 104 years after her death, have a suitable token of respect raised above her unheeded grave. The previous attempts to discharge an obvious duty in this respect have been many, but all unsuccessful. Projects were agitated soon after Mrs. Washington's death to mark her bursal place by a stone to be paid for by the Government, but in the confnsion attendant upon the organization of the new nation they were sue/?flooiT7fi1tr rovivAfl fnr 7 woo4?v*j ? gotten again. In 1826 Mr. George ; Th i * ' THE NEW MOXTTMEXT. . Washington Parke Curtis, Washing. ton's adopted son, issued a stirring i appeal to the country, and wide ini terest in the matter was excited for a ' time, but it bore no fruit until 1833, when the Hon. Silas E. Burrows, of New York, offered to bear the expenses of constructing a stately [ monument. The design of this, how' ever worthily conceived, was ridicu) lous from an artistic standpoint, Eight Grecian columns were set in F embrazures upon a square pedestal and over there were perched four eagles. Above tapered an obelisk, , surmounted by a bust of George Washington, and upon the bust was a fifsh eagle with outstretched wings. X Lit? (CUiiiCl'OlUUU Ul vuio amuvmvvav conception was laid with great public pomp by President Andrew Jackson on May 7, 1833, in the presence of a vast crowd of citizens, strangers, militia and Masonic societies The romantic tale is told that a lovely Southern girl who had won the affection of Mr. Burrows consented to marry him on condition that he build the monument as proposed, and that she jilted him before it was done, whereupon he abandoned I the enterprise. The real fact is that | Mr. Burrows, meeting with financial losses, postponed the work until he ; should be able to continue it, and died before accomplishing his design. At all events the structure, as it was left, , crumbled with slow decay and gratluiill v fell. Until last fall, however, por tions of the pedestal, buttressed cor, ners, monolith and recessed columns , still remained on the ground in a ruined pile, weather-worn, time-stained and more or less mutilated by relic-hunt, era, forming a melancholy sight. When the new shaft of the National Mary Washington Memorial Association was put up, severe in simplicity mary Washington's reside and beautiful in symmetry, the ruin I was demolished. However remarkable the lack of information elsewhere respecting Mary Ball, wife of Augustine Washington and mother of George Washington, everybody in Fredericksburg knows all about her and glories in her history. They know the year and the placc of her birth, the year of grace 170G, and the place Epping Forest, down the Rappahannock, in Lancaster County, Va., which nearly two centuries ago was the plantation home of her father, Colonel Joseph Ball, son % of Colonel William Ball,aroyaliBtEng11aViman nf nronflrk linaanra wlin Ami grated to America away back in 1657. They know that as Mary Ball grew to womanhood she was known throughout that region as the "Rose of Epping Forest" and as the "Belle of the Northern Neck," and that as a grown maiden she was sensible, modest and loving, with hair like flax, cheeks like peach blossoms and eyes of cloudless blue. The tradition is current among them, too, explanatory of the fact that she married her husband in England, that, having been taken there by her brother Joseph after the death of her widowed mother she resided with relatives in the village of Cookham, in ^9 EFPLVQ FOBEST, BIBTHFLACE OP 1 Berkshire, when a gentleman's traveling chariot was upset in front of the house, and the gentleman himself brought in seriously injured, and was nursed to recovery by her. He proved to be a fellow Virginian and neighbor?Colonel Augustine Washington, of Westmoreland County, Va., a gentleman of historic British stock, tracing h s ancestry back centuries in England. They were married on March 6, 1730, he being a widower with three young sons. The Fredericksburg folks can tell you also all that is known about the birth of George Washington, their oldest child, in Westmoreland County in 1732; of the life of the family at Wakefield, on the Potomac; of the fire that destroyed tne little homestead, of the subsequent removal to Pine Grove, across trie JttappanannocK, irom rreaericksbnrg; of the death there of the father, Augustine, when George was but eleven years of age, and of the widow's brave, energetic, positive and methodical character and life with her children?three sons and one daughter?at the Ferry Farm until her young eaglets scattered from the family nest. Probably it is 'owing to the fact that Mary Ball Washington, the widowed mother, by the untimely death of her husband, had the sole responsibility of training and rearing her children, and particularly George, that people seldom hear or speak of Washington's father. As to his mother's worth there is no disagreement whatever among historians and biographers. Respecting her, Washington himself declared solemnly: "All that I am I owe to my mother." Count Rochambeau is reported to have exclaimad after meeting her: "If such are the matrons of America, she may well boast of illustrious sons!" nt Viqt noinrViVxvrs this of ViiO VI UWi UV4^MVW*V . .? her a week following her death: ' 'There 1*6 no fame in the world purer than that of the mother of Washington, and no woman since tne Mother of Christ has left a better claim to the reverence of mankind." Of her also the adopted son of Washington wrote, thirty-seven years after her death: "Had she been of the olden time, statues would have been erected to her memory at the Capitol, and she would have been called the Mother of Romans." While the name and fame of Mary, the mother of Washington, rightfully belongs to the whole nation, this quaint old shipping town of Fredericksburg claims and holds it as a particularly local heritage. Right here in the heart of the town on Charles street, still stands the interesting old wooden house which Mary Washington purchased for a residence at the suggestion of her illustrious son when the Revolution broke out, and where she passed iourteen years at the close of her beneficent life. It is, perhaps, the most esteemed relic in Fredericksburg, which is full of Washington mementoes and other objects of later historical interest. As originally built it was of the cottage type, but later it was enlarged to its present proportions. It is of two 6tories in the centre and one at the wings, with half-story attics lighted by the dormer windows. There are four winJ -e nn fKn f?ref. flnnr UOWS U1 UUlJ.Ui.JLU OKiC UU I/UI/ | and three on the central second storv, over the portico entrance. On the side street there are also four windows, of unequal size. In the detached building in the rear are the kitchen and servants' dormitories. Behind this is a spacious back yard, '1 XCE, Fr.EDERirKSBFRf:. VA. which, in ner day, Mary Washington kept beautiful with blooming dahlius, sun-flowers, calycauthus, hollyhocks | and other old-fashioned blossoms of j our great-grandmothers' time. Here, when the Revolution was fully on, she received from her son, the Commander-inChief, dispatches from time to time by special couriers, giving tidings of the strife as it prdgressed. Here also, when Yorktown had been won and the fate of the war decided triumphantly for the colonies, and the allied French and American troops entered the town on their way to I ) - ... I Philadelphia, she received her son alone, who had made his way unattended through the streets vocal with his name to the corner cottage where she tremblingly awaited him, after an unavoidable absence of eight stormy years. On the next evening, November 11th, 1781, she proudly issued hancinc on hep son's arm, and was conducted by him with loving pride to the Town Hall, where, in public, as the hero's mother, she presided over the Peace Ball given in honor of the great victory for liberty ?arrayed in black silk gown snd snowy kerchief and cap, and received with placid dignity the coTiptomentfl of the home and foreign officer* hold ?ABY BALL (lIABX WASHINGTON). , / { ing delightful court until 10 o'clock when, making a sign to the kinglt Commander-in-Chief, who was leading a Fredericksburg matron through i minuet, she called archly in her cleai; sprightly voice: "Come, George, iti time for old folks to be at home." In the back yard of this same old cottage, working among her flowerd and garden pots, Mary Washington received Lafayette, her country'^ friend and her son's brother-afc-arms, who had come to bid her farewell. The chivalrous Frenchman was guided to the side gate by a little son of Betty Washington Lewis, her only living I and V*O* oil uau^uv^i) auu ivuuu uwa uh uuj^&v pared for his visit, engaged in raking together dry -weeds and sticks into a heap for burning. As the nobleman advanced the startled hostess dropped her rake, but with admirable dignity and self-possession she took between her bare palms the hand the visitor extended, while he bared his lofty head and bowed before her in deepest, reverence. "Ah, Marquis!" said she, "you have come to see an old woman! But come in. I can make you welcome without changing my dress. I am glad to see you. I have often heard my son George speak of you." She preceded him into the inner hall, conducted him into her "living room," and, after seating him, laid aside her straw hat and placed herself opposite to him. Erect as at eighteen, her eyes unfaded, she listened with calm de light to tne panegyric npon ner eon ponied forth by the eloquen^t Frenchman, in which her George was lauded as the miracle of the age, as greater than Caesar or Alexander or Hannibal and more modest than Cincinnatna? the one immortal hero whose fame would outlast time. Her characteristic and comprehensive response was simply: '"I am not surprised at what George has done; he was always a good boy." Fredericksburg tradition further relates, with homely, kindly humor, that Mme. Washington mixed with her own hands for her distinguished guest a mint julip and offered it with a plate of her own home-made "ginger cakes," which he accepted with craf^fnl rtnnrtfisv. nronouncinc both delicious. Then rising to take his leave, he begged her blessing ere he embarked for his native land. She looked up to heaven, folded her hands, and in sweet, thrilling tones prayed that God grant him safety, happiness, I THE UNFINISHED MONUMENT. B prosperity and peace. With tears the foreigner bent to kiss the with- H ered hand, thanked her fervently and B departed. Returning to Mount Ver- H non as Washington's guest, Lafayette I reported: "I have seen the only Ko- I man matron living at this day." iff Eere also, George Washington, at H the ag? of iifteen, attended school at H the same academy in which two subse- I quent Presidents?Madison and Mon- K roe?were prepared for college, row- H ing himseli across the river and back B from his mother's plantation on the H other side. Likewise here in Fred- H ericksburg, a stone's throw distant H from the Mary Washington cottage, is H the old mansion known as Kenmore, H the residence of her daughter Betty. H When built by Colonel Fielding Lewis, B in order that bis wife might be near H her mother, Kenmore was in the sub- H urbs. It is still in a fair state of preservation, and is one of the "show H places" of Fredericksburg. In it, ac- H[ cording to Mary Washington's great granddaughter, Mrs. Ella Bassett Washington, Mary Washington died H on August 25, 1789, although other authorities place the death scene in the Mary Washington cottage. Xot^B far from the Kenmore grounds is the^f hitherto neglected grave of the first Ht President's mother, on a gentle knoll crowned by some gray boulders, whither she often retired with her^f knitting or her Bible. jfl On this sucred spot the new marblo HB obelisk is placed; and hither, doubtless, to this shrine of noble woman- |H hood will countless bands of pilgrimsH| repair for centuries to come?Ameri-Bfi can sons and fathers as well as mothersHH and daughters?to pay deserved tri-^H bute to the memory of her who pro-^H duced and reared the founder of thisH| nation. .